Chapter 2: The First Good Deed | Immortality Starts With Karma

I've been reading a lot of Xianxia lately and I thought that I'd try my own hand at it. I'm unsure if I should continue it or not, this story won't be posted publicly until there are around 15~ chapters written and thus please let me know what you think!

Immortality Starts With Karma

Chapter 2: The First Good Deed

I awoke to the dim, grey light of morning filtering through the cracks in my hut's wall. A fitful sleep had done little to ease the ache that had settled deep in my bones. I pushed myself into a sitting position on the straw pallet, my entire torso protesting the movement with a low, constant throb. It was not the sharp, piercing pain of yesterday, but a heavy, persistent reminder of the damage done.

I pulled up the System interface, its blue light a stark contrast to the gloom of the hut. The status was clear: [Heavily Injured]. It confirmed what my body was telling me. The binding process had stabilized me, pulled me back from the edge of death, but it had not fixed me. I thought back to the tutorial's simple instructions. Spend GK on host enhancement. Healing my injuries was the most critical enhancement I could imagine. Without a healthy body, cultivation was a distant dream. Survival was a daily struggle.

A sharp cramp in my stomach cut through my thoughts. Hunger. Real, gnawing hunger that made the back of my throat feel hollow. I had not eaten since yesterday morning's meager meal, and Jin Kai's assault had burned what little energy I had. Food was the most immediate need, something my body demanded with primal urgency. The only place to get it was the Outer Sect dining hall.

I forced myself to my feet, bracing a hand against the rough wooden wall. The world of a cultivator was a steep pyramid, and I was at the very bottom. The hundreds of Outer Sect disciples here were all in the Qi Refining realm, the first, most basic stage of cultivation. The original Wei Chen had been stuck at the second level for nearly his entire time in the sect. Jin Kai, with his effortless power, was probably at the fourth or fifth level. The difference was vast. Each level was a leap in strength and stamina.

Beyond us were the Inner Disciples. They were the sect's real talents, those aiming for the legendary realm of Foundation Establishment. Reaching that stage meant you were no longer just a disciple learning the basics; you were a true cultivator. Your lifespan would extend, your senses would sharpen, and you would command a power that a Qi Refining disciple could not even comprehend. The Elders who instructed us were all Foundation Establishment experts. To them, we were less than ants, our individual struggles as meaningless as the rustling of leaves.

To climb that pyramid, you needed resources. Spiritual pills, potent cultivation manuals, richer ambient Qi. We had none of that here. Our only resource was the thin, watery congee served once a day, containing just enough spiritual energy to keep us from stalling completely. It was my only choice.

Slowly, carefully, I unbarred the door and stepped outside.

The morning air was damp and smelled of wet earth and distant cook-fires. I started the walk toward the dining hall, each step a deliberate effort. My new perspective made the familiar path seem alien. Even now, I had to walk with my head down, avoiding eye contact, my world defined by fear and shame.

The outer sect grounds were a collection of dirt paths winding between shabby huts. Most disciples were already awake, their movements filled with a dreary, listless energy. A few gathered in small groups, practicing basic sword forms with clumsy, unrefined motions. I saw one disciple, his face bruised and swollen, practicing a stance while a taller youth watched over him, occasionally kicking his leg into a better position with a sneer. A transaction of power. The weaker one endured the abuse in exchange for pointers he could not get elsewhere.

Further on, I saw a boy who looked no older than fourteen sweeping the path in front of a larger, well-kept hut. An older disciple, a known lackey of Jin Kai, sat on the porch, sipping tea from a clean ceramic cup. The tea was probably bought from the Sect Market, a luxury far beyond the reach of most. The sweeping boy worked diligently, his gaze fixed on the dirt, earning a few coppers or perhaps a single, low-quality spirit stone for a week’s servitude. I saw it everywhere. A constant, brutal economy of favors, intimidation, and survival. This was the system that existed before my own had appeared.

The dining hall was a large, noisy building made of rough-hewn timber. As I approached, the low din of chatter grew louder, punctuated by the clattering of wooden bowls. I slipped inside, staying near the wall, my injuries making me cautious of the jostling crowd. The air was thick with the smell of steam and boiled grain. A long line of disciples snaked toward two massive iron vats at the far end of the hall, where two bored-looking disciples were ladling out the daily meal.

It was exactly as I remembered. A scrum. Disciples pushed and shoved, the stronger ones cutting in line, their voices loud and arrogant. They would get the first ladles, the thickest part of the congee before it was watered down further. The weakest were pushed to the back.

I watched as a burly youth, his arms thick with muscle that spoke of his advancement to the third stage of Qi Refining, reached the front. He received his bowl and, instead of leaving, simply held out his bowl again. The server hesitated for a second, then wordlessly gave him a second portion. No one in line said a word. The youth smirked and shouldered his way through the crowd. On his way out, he "accidentally" tripped a much smaller boy, sending his bowl and its precious contents splattering across the grimy floor. The small boy just stared at the spilled congee for a long moment before quietly turning away, his face a mask of despair. The burly youth laughed. No one intervened. This was the law here. Might made right.

My hunger was a sharp, biting thing, but I suppressed it. This hall was not just a place to eat. It was a hunting ground. I scanned the crowd, looking past the bullies and their victims. My eyes settled on a figure hovering near the very back of the room, far from the main line. He was trying to be invisible, just as I had been. He was stick-thin, his pale green robes hanging off his small frame like a scarecrow's. His hair was unkempt, and his face was gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of long-term hunger. I could feel the faintest trace of Qi coming from him. He was at the first stage of Qi Refining, the absolute bottom of this brutal hierarchy.

I watched him. He did not even attempt to join the line. He waited, his gaze fixed on the vats, his body tense. He was hoping for leftovers. Finally, as the last of the main crowd dispersed, he scurried forward. One of the servers scraped the bottom of the vat and dumped a watery, half-full ladle of what looked more like grey water than food into his bowl. It was pathetic, but the boy's face showed a flicker of relief.

He turned to find a secluded corner to eat. As he passed a table where a few disciples were talking, one of them casually stretched his leg out. The boy stumbled, his arms flailing to save his bowl. He managed to keep his balance, but half of the watery liquid sloshed out onto the floor. The disciple who tripped him did not even look. The boy froze for a second, his knuckles white around his bowl, then hurried away without a word. He found a dark corner, sat with his back to the wall, and hunched over his meager prize, trying to make it last.

I had seen him before. His name was Lin Fan. Wei Chen's memories supplied the name but no other details. He was just another one of the faceless, struggling masses. But now, he was not faceless to me.

My mind started working. Helping a strong disciple was a waste. They would not appreciate it and might see it as an insult. Helping one of the bullies was out of the question. But helping someone like Lin Fan... someone truly helpless, with no one to stand up for him, who was consistently targeted by others... a deed done for him would have a greater impact. It would be an act of pure charity in a place where such a thing did not exist. I had found my target. A cold purpose settled over me, pushing the nagging hunger to the back of my mind. I knew what I had to do.

I waited until the hall had mostly emptied out, the loud chatter replaced by a low murmur. Only a few stragglers like myself remained. I approached the vats, my stomach twisting with a mix of hunger and apprehension. The server, a lanky youth with a bored expression, looked at me and then into the nearly empty vat.

"Late again, Wei Chen?" he asked, not unkindly. He knew me. Or rather, he knew the old Wei Chen, the boy who was always too slow, too weak to get a proper meal.

I just nodded.

He sighed and scraped the very bottom of the iron pot, his ladle making a loud, grating noise. What he poured into my bowl was a pitiful amount, even worse than what Lin Fan had received. It was thin, translucent, and cold. A few stray grains of rice floated sadly in the murky liquid. This was the dregs, the leftovers of the leftovers.

My hands closed around the rough wooden bowl. The hunger was a physical pain now, a clawing emptiness in my gut. My body, still injured, screamed for any nourishment it could get. I looked at the pathetic meal. It would not do much, but it was something. I carried it to a corner far from anyone else and forced it down in a few quick gulps. It was tasteless and did nothing to quiet the gnawing in my stomach, but it was fuel. Barely.

I did not go back to my hut. Instead, I found a spot in the shadows of the training grounds where I could observe without being noticed. I watched Lin Fan. After finishing his meager meal, he did not go to practice. He went to the woodcutting area, where a massive pile of logs waited to be split for the sect's kitchens and bathhouses. It was manual labor, something Outer Disciples did to earn a few extra copper coins or, if they were lucky, a ration of coarse bread. He was smaller than the other disciples there, and his axe swings were weak and inefficient. He was working himself to exhaustion for scraps. I watched him for an hour, noting the path he took back to his hut, a less-traveled route that skirted the edge of the forest. Then I returned to my own shack, the plan solidifying in my mind.

That night, sleep was difficult. The hunger gnawed at me, a constant, dull ache that made it hard to focus. The straw pallet felt harder than usual. Every instinct in my body, the primal need for survival, was screaming at me to reconsider. Giving up my only food for the day while injured was a fool's gambit. It was a huge risk. The System might not even register the act. Someone else could find the food.

But my other mind, the one that saw this world as a series of calculations, weighed the costs. Cost: One day of extreme hunger, a temporary increase in physical weakness. Risk: The plan could fail completely, leaving me weaker and with no gain. Potential Reward: Enough Good Karma to heal my body. A clean slate. The ability to move, to train, to properly begin this new life.

The potential reward was too great to ignore. This was not an act of kindness. It was an investment. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, pushing the hunger down.

I woke before the first hint of dawn, my stomach a tight, painful knot. I did not wait. I moved immediately, my body stiff from the cold. I was one of the first disciples to arrive at the dining hall. The servers were still yawning, barely awake. The congee was thick and steaming, the aroma a form of sweet torture. The server filled my bowl to the brim without a second glance.

I held the warm, heavy bowl in my hands. The steam rose to my face, carrying the simple, savory scent of cooked grain. My mouth watered. My hands trembled slightly. Every fiber of my being wanted me to lift the bowl to my lips and eat. Just one mouthful.

I forced myself to turn away.

I walked out of the hall, the bowl held carefully in front of me. I followed the route I had mapped out yesterday, my eyes scanning for anyone watching. The path was deserted. I reached the secluded spot behind the row of woodsheds, a place obscured from the main paths. An old, moss-covered tree stump sat just inside the tree line. It was the perfect spot. I carefully placed the bowl of steaming congee on top of it.

Then, without a second look, I retreated deeper into the woods, positioning myself behind a thick, ancient tree. From here, I had a clear view of the stump, but I was completely hidden in the morning shadows. Now, all I could do was wait.

The minutes dragged on. The hunger was a living creature inside me, clawing at my insides. A few disciples passed on the main path, their voices distant. My heart pounded with a nervous rhythm. What if he took a different route today? What if someone else stumbled upon it? The congee was slowly losing its heat, the steam no longer visible in the cool air.

Just as a sliver of doubt began to creep in, I saw him.

Lin Fan was shuffling along the path, his head down, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He looked even more gaunt than he had yesterday. He walked with the slow, defeated gait of someone who expected nothing from the day. He was about to pass the stump when he froze. His head snapped up, his eyes wide.

He stared at the bowl of congee. It was a look of pure, unadulterated disbelief. He scanned the area wildly, his body tensing as if expecting a trap. He clearly thought it was a cruel joke. He took a hesitant step closer, then another, his eyes darting into the shadows. Seeing nothing, he moved with a sudden burst of speed. He snatched the bowl from the stump and scurried behind one of the woodsheds, pressing his back against the wall as if to guard his prize.

He did not savor it. He wolfed it down, his eyes never stopping their frantic scanning of the surroundings. He shoveled the congee into his mouth with his bare fingers, desperate to finish before it could be taken from him. It was the hunger of a starving animal, raw and absolute.

When the bowl was empty, he licked it clean, not a single grain wasted. As he lowered the bowl, a flicker of blue light blossomed in my vision, bright and clear.

[A positive deed of anonymous charity has been performed. You provided sustenance to one in need at significant cost to yourself.]

[Good Karma +15 acquired.]

The number was more than I had hoped for. The System had factored in my own hunger and weakness. A sharp, humorless smile touched my lips. The gamble had paid off. My mind was clear and sharp, a stark contrast to my aching body.

System, I thought, focusing on the interface. Use Good Karma to heal my injuries.

[Spend 10 GK to perform 'Major Recovery'? Y/N]

Yes.

The response was instant. A deep, powerful warmth erupted from my dantian, flooding my body in a potent wave. It was nothing like the gentle binding heat. This was a torrent of vitality, washing through every muscle, every bone, every organ. The deep ache in my ribs vanished. The tightness in my chest dissolved. I felt strength flowing back into my limbs, chasing away the weakness and the fatigue.

I took a deep breath. It was clean and full, without a hint of pain.

The blue screen updated. [Status: Healthy].

The gnawing hunger in my stomach was still there, but it was no longer a crippling pain. It was now just a simple, physical need, an inconvenience that could be dealt with later. I looked out from behind the tree. Lin Fan had already disappeared. The world looked the same, but my place in it had fundamentally changed. I was no longer a victim waiting for the next beating.

I looked at the rundown huts and the struggling disciples in the distance. They were no longer just a backdrop of misery. They were a field of opportunity, a place to harvest the only resource that truly mattered now.

I had a path.